


Colorless

by seasonalreign



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barista!Dean, Coffeeshop AU, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate AU if you squint, artist!castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 11:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10464096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasonalreign/pseuds/seasonalreign
Summary: When Castiel first laid eyes on them, they were a mottled green. The same film of grey that subdued every other color that decorated the world laid glued to his eyes. As his eyes traveled up from plump lips, they burst to life as a bright forest green dancing with flecks of amber. Color seemed to flow from those eyes. Swirling and floating on a breeze that he couldn’t feel, Castiel watched, mesmerized. Blues, reds, greens, yellows, oranges and purples splashed onto the walls, cupboards, clothes and floor of the cafe like water, painting the world in colors so vibrant Castiel couldn’t remember how to breathe.  Outside, the sky exploded into a brilliant blue.In his chest, Castiel’s heart lept.“Castiel. Call me Castiel.” The words tripped out of his mouth in a breathless rush.The  barista winked, “Okay, Castiel. I’m Dean. Is there anything else I can get you?”-------Castiel Novak's life had always been dull. He thought he'd always live in the suffocating, bland world. Until he met him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CapConspicuous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapConspicuous/gifts).



> Happy birthday, my love.

For Castiel Novak, everything was black and white.  The sky was white and the ground was black. Of course, there was grey too, like the trees and rivers. Cars were black and white and grey, but never colored.

Castiel couldn’t see colors. Not really.

He wasn’t color blind, but he couldn’t see the colors with the intensity people had always described them with. Everything had a dull sheen to it. He knew what  the colors looked like but he didn’t know how they felt, so to him, everything was dull. It showed in his art, too. Every work he created was in black and white and grey. The countless sketchbooks that filled the bookshelves and laid strewn around his apartment were full of sketches that had a distinct lack of color.

Crayons, colored pencils and markers had no home among Castiel’s art supplies. Besides, what use did he have for color? Art was meant to express a person’s emotions in a visual form. If he hadn’t felt emotions tied to colors, why should he put color in his work? If he himself couldn’t put an emotion into something that would be applied to his work, why should he even apply it?

How could he be expected to make the person viewing his art feel anything if he, the artist, couldn’t feel any emotion for the colors that were oh-so-popular in the world of creators?

Monday, as always, was bleary and slow. The world that was void of color moved along as it usually did; business people bustled down the street with an air of importance about them while beggars lined the corners of streets and the walls of buildings, hoping for a kind soul to take pity and give them any change they could spare. Fishing out his phone from his bag, Castiel crossed the road and sent a quick text to Charlie to tell her that he was on his way.

Charlie Bradbury, his best friend,  was a very energetic girl. She worked at a hole-in-the-wall cafe named  Hunters. Castiel had never been to the small cafe before. He preferred to sit in a Starbucks and sketch the people that came and went. Normally, Charlie was able to meet Castiel at a bookstore halfway between his part-time job and Hunters because they usually took the same shifts if they had a say in the scheduling.

On his break, Castiel had gotten a brief text from Charlie saying that she’d picked up a shift for one of the other baristas who called in sick, and had asked if he would mind dropping by for the rest of her shift.  Castiel didn’t mind. After hearing Charlie talk so highly of the place, he’d been wanting to see what the cafe looked like for a while. Besides that, he figured that he could use the handful of hours to sketch and fill some of the blank pages in his sketchbook.

The walk was short, all things considered. Within ten minutes of clocking out, he was walking into the cafe. Scanning the room for the familiar shock of red hair, he took a hesitant step in.

“Castiel!”  The familiar, warm voice of his best friend shouted.

A soft smile blossomed on Castiel’s lips as he turned his head to a corner of the room. Charlie came running towards him, her copper curls bouncing brightly. He caught her gently in a quick hug before she pulled back and tugged on his hand, leading him to the bar.

“Order something! I’ll make it with  extra love for you!” A playful smirk graces her lips, and her eyes twinkle with a joy that  Castiel wished he could feel but knew that his empty chest of a heart could  never replicate.

“For you, anything.” It’s not the same. It’s not as genuine as the emotion Charlie radiates so easily and fluidly, but it’s as close to genuine as Castiel can get. He’s a pretty good faker. Quickly, he places his order of a simple  caramel mocha and takes a seat next to the window.

Crystal blue eyes bounced around the cafe with the speed of a racecar, taking in the muted colors, the simple wood tables and hardwood flooring. In truth, it was a cute little shop. It had the sense of comfort and safety; the feeling of home. The mismatched cups and plates that various flavors of muffins, croissants and cookies were served on took away the feeling of a cafe.

Booths lined the side walls with tables spread out randomly on the floor. Circular tables lined the storefront windows.

Fingers twitching with the need to release fresh ideas, Castiel dove for his sketchbook and pulled out a pencil, flipping to a random blank page. His hand moved of its own accord, sketching with fast, precise lines and shading. His vision and mind tunneled, focused only on the task of baking in the absolute feeling of ‘home’ that the small cafe bombarded Castiel with.

“Excuse me. Sir?” A voice broke through the barrier of focus. The voice sounded almost like gravel being crushed under a shoe, but the words had a soft edge to them that took away any possible intimidation from such a deep voice.

Castiel looked up, frowning. Rarely ever did he get such an intense need to draw something. When he was younger, it had been easy to slip into the trance-like state of focus in a public space. As he got older, it became harder for him to slip intothe mindlessness. All he had to say was that it had better be important for him to be dragged out of focus.

“ A caramel mocha,” The barista slid a mug of steaming coffee onto the table and looked down at Castiel, smiling.  “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Castiel’s fingers, which had been thrumming against the table in impatience, stilled immediately. His breath stuttered in his chest, unsure. The man was beautiful, objectively speaking. His features were chiseled to that equal of any mythical god Castiel could think of. The black apron tied loosely around his waist had been caught between the hem of his shirt and the denim of his jeans, showing a slim strip of skin.  Broad shoulders tapered into a thin torso.

And his eyes.

They were everything

When Castiel first laid eyes on them, they were a mottled green, The same film of grey that subdued every other color that decorated the world laid glued to his eyes. As his eyes traveled up from plump lips, they burst to life as a bright forest green dancing with flecks of amber. Color seemed to flow from those eyes. Swirling and floating on a breeze that he couldn’t feel, Castiel watched, mesmerized. Blues, reds, greens, yellows, oranges and purples splashed onto the walls, cupboards, clothes and floor of the cafe like water, painting the world in colors so vibrant Castiel couldn’t remember how to breathe.  Outside, the sky exploded into a brilliant blue.

In his chest, Castiel’s heart lept.

“Castiel. Call me Castiel.” The words tripped out of his mouth in a breathless rush.

The  barista winked, “Okay, Castiel. I’m Dean. Is there anything else I can get you?”

Flinching, Castiel shoved his glasses up roughly as heat rushed to fill his cheeks. He remembered Dean asking that question as soon as he’d set the cup of mocha down. He’d already made a fool of himself and it had been a mere two minutes since Dean had approached him. “That will be all. Thank you… Dean.” He added, almost as an afterthought.

Dean flashed another blinding smile at Castiel, eyes crinkling and dimples revealing themselves briefly. “Alright! Let me know if I can get you anything.”

Ducking his head to the steaming mug, Castiel took a sip and closed his eyes with dread. He was glad for the warm steam, a possible excuse for the rising flush in his cheeks. He looked around the room, truly seeing for the first time the rich browns of the tables and floor that complimented the tan of the walls.

“I see you’ve met Dean.” Charlie smirked as she walked over to him, towel thrown over her shoulder.

Castiel nodded, sipping from his mug, The sweet beverage exploded across his tongue. Dean was interesting to say the least. He had never met someone like the green eyed barista before. The vibrant colors that had bloomed to life as soon as Castiel had looked at Dean’s eyes danced in his vision, a reminder of the beautiful man that couldn’t be ignored. Castiel didn’t know what to do about him. They had only just met and he had already made a fool of himself in front of Dean. The want to repeat that scene wasn’t something Castiel could say he experienced.

Charlie’s shift ended as the sun began to set. Watching the sky wasn’t something that Castiel could say he enjoyed. Other people had raved about the beautiful colors that streaked the sky as the sun died its daily death, but he could never see the point in something so trivial, especially because he couldn’t see it in full.

The sky had slowly turned from light blue to a fiery red. Orange and yellow poked out in long stripes like teasing flags. Of the few clouds that dotted the summer sky, the brilliant white had been turned into pink and purple. They blended together, almost like the clouds were trying to recreate cotton candy. The tall buildings of the city blocked the actual sunset from his view, but the sight of the colorful sky was still a sight to behold, especially for him.

Castiel stood from his chair, shrugging on his tan trench coat as he packed up his sketchbook. Waiting for Charlie by the door, he saw her smile at her girlfriend, Jo, and give her a soft kiss before rushing out from behind the counter to meet Castiel.

“Bye Castiel!”

“Bye  Jo!”

The goodbyes were shouted from both Dean and Jo as he held the door for Charlie. Surprised at hearing his name be called, Castiel’s head jerked to meet Dean’s gaze. His tanned face was scrunched into a grin, hands working mindlessly to clean a mug. He raised his hand in a wave, eyes dancing.

“Goodbye Dean.”  Castiel cleared his throat, ducking his head as he pushed his glasses up. He followed Charlie out the door.

As always, Castiel walked Charlie to her apartment door. The city wasn’t bad and Charlie didn’t live in a bad area, but he could never let her walk home by herself. If something happened to her because he wasn’t there, Castiel doubted he could forgive himself. After the door to her apartment shut, Castiel started on his way home, deep in thought.

Being in an artistic slump wasn’t a strange occurrence for Castiel. There had been many in his life as an artist. The slump he was in currently was hard to get out of. His usual ideas of sketching people that caught his eye in public wasn’t giving him the faint satisfaction his art could usually give him.

He wanted to create more than pages of mismatched sketches that didn’t fit together under a theme. He wanted to make a series of works the expressed one similar theme in each drawing. After being at Hunters for the afternoon, Castiel thought that he might have gotten an idea.

On his way home, he stopped by a shop and  bought colored pencils.

 

* * *

 

After that day, Castiel spent almost all of his free time at the cafe. He always ordered a caramel mocha but the ones Charlie made for him were always the best. The mocha the other baristas made were good, but Charlies tasted sweeter. Every time he ordered, Dean was the one to bring him his drink with a cheerful smile and a wave and every time, Castiel choked up and couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes for longer than a few seconds. He would utter a thank you,  push his glasses up and bury his face in the swirling steam that danced through the air.

Steam was becoming a g ood excuse for the blush that seemed permanently painted on Castiel’s cheeks.

He had noticed, distantly and vaguely, that the further from Dean he got, the more the colors of the world faded. The opposite was true as well. When Dean was close to him, the world came alive, colors jumping out to Castiel. Especially green.

Even as the months passed he could not get used to the swirling green of Dean’s eyes. They were so full of emotion, always dancing with joy . Dean’s eyes had opened an entire world for Castiel, one he had always thought would be locked for him. How could he bring up the colors that were once so dull, and explain that he now saw everything in a vivid brightness that no language could ever explain properly? How could he begin to describe how it was because of Dean himself that he could now enjoy the world other people saw?

Dean had started coming over to Castiel when he was on break or the cafe didn’t have very many customers. He would ask about Castiel’s day, tell him a funny story about a customer that had come in earlier while Castiel was away, working at his job. In return, Castiel listened quietly, offering an occasional smile or soft chuckle.

Eventually, Castiel built up to telling him his own work experiences. Of course, he still wasn’t able to look at Dean very long. Castiel had always been a quiet, shy person and around Dean, it was hard to lift his head up. The blush that stained his cheeks throughout the day wasn’t something he was eager to show Dean.

Charlie was working the closing shift with Dean and Jo. Ellen, Jo’s mom and the owner of Hunters, was in the back in her office. With ten minutes to closing, Castiel pushed away his glass of water -he had switched to non-caffeinated drinks once it had started getting late- and closed the cover of his sketchbook on half-hearted sketches.

When Charlie shot him a questionable look from the register, Castiel waved it off with a timid smile and pointed to Ellen’s office. After Charlie nodded, Castiel slipped into the back and knocked on Ellen’s door.

“Come in.” She called.

He pushed the door open and closed it behind him. Ellen’s office was small. It was neat and organized, stacks of papers neatly lined up on the thick wood desk. Pictures framed perfectly captured memories of her with her husband and their three kids, Sam, Jo and Dean. Ellen was a middle-aged woman with deep-set wrinkles that told stories of years of laughter and happiness. Her eyes were old and kind, framed by dusty brown locks tied into a sloppy bun. A few strands hung limp.

Castiel swallowed heavily. His heart raced in his chest, beating a nervous rhythm. Logically, Castiel knew that even if she refused, he would still be welcome here, but he was hoping to receive her permission.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Singer. I don’t mean to bother you, I just had a question …”

 

* * *

 

It was a slow day in Hunters, like Sundays always are. The sky was a cloudless blue, happy and calm. Armed with his sketchbook, pencil and new colored pencils, Castiel walked up to the door and turned to push the door open with his hip. It was 9 o’clock in the morning. Not many customers were in the cafe but Jo stood at the register with a ready smile while  Dean wandered around, wiping down booths and tables and straightening table toppers. Charlie leaned against the counter, bored but content to  gaze at her girlfriend and occasionally poke fun.

Castiel gave her a soft smile as he greeted Jo with a ‘good morning.’

“The usual?” Jo asked, quirking her lips.

“Yes please. With a    too.” He pushed his glasses up and pulled out his wallet.

After Jo accepted the cash and he put the change in the tip jar, Castiel walked to his normal table. Dean was wiping down a table four feet away, and Castiel’s eyes snuck constant peaks to look at him. With the sun slanted just right, he was bathed in sunlight. When Dean made it to his table,  Castiel picked up his sketchbook for him to wipe the table down.

“Good morning, Castiel.” Dean smiled, looking up at him as he crouched over the table. “Have a nice walk here?”

Castiel ducked, pushing his glasses up forcefully. He could feel the blush rise in his cheeks and he scowled internally, “Good morning, Dean. My walk was nice. It’s a beautiful day out.”

Dean hummed in agreement. “It looks like your order is up. I’ll be right back with your mocha and muffin.”

As soon as Dean’s back was to him, Castiel’s shoulders relaxed and his breathing came easier. The blinding colors that had spun into life as Dean had leaned across Castiel, his face centimeters from his own, to clean the far side of the table faded into a manageable brightness. Within seconds, Dean was carrying the  mug of mocha and muffin back to him, setting them on the table with a smirk and a wink before continuing his rounds.

Castiel sunk in his chair, sipping a piping hot mug of coffee and nibbling at the muffin. He began to sketch. Unlike the other drawings he’d done, he was almost hesitant to start this project. Ellen had given her permission, but there was a lot more that Castiel felt he had to consider when going about this . He wanted to capture everything with these works. The new colors he could see were calling to him, begging him to put them into his work, to use them.

He wanted to capture emotions with color. It was something that he had never done before and never attempted. Without the vision of color, he hadn’t felt the need to add color to express feelings. All together, he would need to come up with six different drawings.

Deciding to start with Jo, Castiel angled himself so that he could take a swift glance at her whenever he needed.  Jo would be orange, for the kindness and warmth of her smile.

Time flew by. Hours slipped past him without any recognition. Occasionally he would stop to chat momentarily with Charlie on her breaks or to return a greeting as Dean carried an order to a table. When Sam came in to work a shift, Dean dragged him over to Castiel. The introduction was brief because Sam was due to start his shift in five minutes and Dean had to take a couple their vanilla bean frappe and chocolate chip cookie. From what he could tell though, Sam was a good kid. He was Dean’s younger brother, studying to become a lawyer. His height was something to be reckoned with, and Castiel wasn’t that short of a man.

The grumble of impatient hunger broke Castiel out of his focused mindset. He had made a lot of progress so far. He had finished Jo, Ellen and Bobby.  Ellen was red for the unconditional love of a mother that was pressed into the walls of the cafe, Bobby was blue for the cool, supporting backbone. He had just started working on Charlie, (yellow, for limitless energy and the radiant beauty of the sun) when he was interrupted.

Scowling softly, he quickly walked to the register, glad that the main afternoon rush had already ordered and were waiting for Dean and Sam to take their orders to them. After ordering a turkey club wrap, Castiel leaned against the counter off to the side. He talked to Charlie, asking her about how her shift has been so far and offering support when she ranted about a customer having a particularly nasty attitude. When Sam walked past with a tray full of mugs and muffins balanced carefully on his arm, Castiel shuffled to the side so he could pass through without difficulty. Sam shot him a grateful smile.

The bell tied to the door jingled, signaling a new customer. Charlie gave Castiel a bittersweet smile and moved to the register, prepared to take a new order. Castiel turned to watch her work, his back to the doorway that led to the kitchen where all the food was prepared. After she yelled the order, Castiel saw the customer take a step in his direction to wait, so he took a step back to make room and start on his way back to his seat.

Really, he hadn’t known Dean was sliding past Castiel. If he’d known, he wouldn’t have turned right into him. Time seemed to slow down the second Castiel turned around and felt the bite of a plastic tray against his side. The mud brown tray was knocked out of Dean’s hands, the order -only a mug of coffee- fell to the floor.

Eyes widening with panic, Castiel reached for the mug as Dean lunged for the tray.

Lips crashed heavily against Castiel’s mouth, teeth biting into his bottom lip viciously. Choking out a shocked gust of breath, he met surprised eyes.  Ocean blue clashed with forest green in a mess of awkward confusion, and Castiel could feel his shoulders tensing with panic. Distantly, he heard the sound of shattering glass like a gunshot and the dull thud of the plastic tray onto the wood floor.

The sounds didn’t register in his mind correctly, too focused on the soft sensation of Dean's lips pressed against his. Castiel’s eyes jumped between Dean’s, his body frozen. He didn’t know what to do, couldn’t figure out how to make his body move, couldn’t remember the feeling of air filling his lungs. Dean knew what to do, though. Castiel was in good hands.

The green in his eyes darkened to a heated calm, his figure relaxing as his lips broke away from Castiel to form a smirk and he then stepped forward, one hand reaching to cup Castiel’s jaw while the other wound at Castiel’s waist to pull him against Dean. His lips, slightly chapped,  moved slowly and deliberately. Castiel felt his knees grow weak.

Dean’s hands were calloused, hidden strength obvious in the soft pressure against his jaw. His hold was so gentle though, almost coaxing as he moved slowly against Castiel. There wasn’t a single hint of hurry in his actions. Every move was meticulous and planned out and executed beyond perfectly. Castiel couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t tell if the cafe was loud or quiet, the blood rushing through him was deafening. Gripping Dean’s shirt with a fist, Castiel weakly pushed back, urging him to step back. The second Castiel had some semblance of personal space, he ran for it. Tripping over his feet, he ran to his table, grabbed his sketchbook without stopping and bolted out the door, breathing heavily.

His lips stung with the weight and heat of Dean’s lips and his cheeks burned bright. If he had to guess, half a block was the furthest Castiel got before there was a hand at his wrist, gripping strongly before he was being pulled to a stop.

“Go on a date with me.” Dean’s voice was hoarse. His grip tightened with purpose and he cleared his throat with a cough. “Castiel, go on a date with me.”

Castiel turned to look at Dean. His heart was tripping in his chest, his breath coming in fast, sharp bursts. There was a small tremble in his legs and hands.

“Cas?” Dean asked softly. The defiant determination and focus in the set of his face softened into concern. He stepped forward, holding Castiel softly.

The world exploded into color so blinding, Castiel had to close his eyes and bury his face in Dean’s shoulder. Dean was a conundrum to him. He made the world explode into color so bright it hurt to look around him, but he acted as the ultimate cure to the panic residing in Castiel’s chest.

“Okay,” Castiel agreed quietly. The words tripped out on a tremble, his voice unsteady and muffled by Dean’ jacket. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

As far as dates go, and Castiel couldn’t say he’s been on very many, it had been amazing. Dean had picked him up, dressing in a nice pair of jeans and a dark green button up. Ironically, Castiel was wearing the same kind of clothing. He had on a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a royal blue button up tucked into the waistband. When Dean had seen him, he’d stood still for a considerable amount of time, eyes alight with fire as his gaze raked up and down Castiel. Then he had cleared his throat, a bashful smile gracing his lips as his cheeks flushed, and had let loose a rumbling chuckle, commenting on the similarity of their outfits.

They ended up going to a  small burger joint. Dean had held the door for him and was apologizing, promising that he had made reservations for them at a semi-fancy restaurant.  He didn’t know why the reservation had gotten mixed up, but the slump of his shoulders and the dull green of his eyes spelled out clearly how bad he felt.

Castiel wasn’t one to make the first move. Lacking the confidence to believe he could pull it off smoothly, he never attempted it, but the downcast demeanor that Dean had taken as they left the restaurant and started walking to the diner was a horrible sight to see. Happiness was the most beautiful color on Dean, and Castiel wanted to see it again, wanted to feel it vibrate in the air around him.

As he walked past Dean, he had grabbed his free hand in a shaky grip. He squeezed softly, keeping his face down as he walked to a booth in the corner, “I don’t mind. It’s a lovely diner for a first date. Cheer up, Dean. We could be in a worse place than here.”

With his back to him, Castiel couldn’t see the way Dean’s shoulders lifted and his eyes softened with affection, but he felt Dean’s hand shift until their fingers were laced together. While they ate, they talked about anything and everything. Dean told him about Sam, about how proud he was that Sam was studying to be a lawyer and how smart he was.

He told him that he preferred sunrises over sunset because  everyone can experience a sunset but you have to choose to experience a sunrise. Dean talked about his job, told Castiel about the first time he ever tried to pour a cup of coffee at Hunters. The drink had spewed everywhere except in the cup and it tasted like it had been pulled from the trash.

“You know, Ellen and Bobby aren’t Sam and I’s biological parents.” Dean said. The words sounded casual, but Castiel could detect a layer of unidentifiable emotion below his faux confidence. “We were adopted by them when I was.. 8 years old I think? Our parents died in a fire when I was four.  Ellen and Bobby saved our lives and they gave Sam a fighting chance for a life. They were our family friends, but Bobby and my dad had had a falling out a couple years before they died. They hadn’t known when my parents died. It was only when Bobby had tried to reach back out to my dad and patch up their friendship that they found out.

“They drove out to the home Sam and I were living at and adopted us without a second thought. The cafe had already been opened, so they were busy running it but we had a good childhood because of them. They did the best they could with us. I don’t know how I can ever repay them for it.” As the last consonant fell from Dean's lips, silence fell upon them

Dean’s eyes were slanted to the table, his hands kept busy by shuffling around fries on his plate with a fork in faux laziness. His posture screamed that he was uncomfortable, and Castiel couldn’t blame him. That was a lot to unload on someone and even more to go through.

Castiel smiled gently and reached across the table for Dean’s hand. “Bobby and Ellen are amazing people and they did a great job raising you and Sam. You’re such a strong person Dean. Many other people would have broken under the strain of experiencing that.”

Dean flashed a quick smile and changed the subject to Castiel. He asked about his childhood, if he had any siblings, where he grew up and what his favorite memory was. Dean asked about Charlie, how Castiel had gotten to know her and where they met. He wondered why Castiel hadn’t come to the cafe before the day Charlie picked up a second shift.

And Castiel answered every question. Dean spoke with fiery excitement while Castiel answered with quiet calm. Unused to talking about himself so much, he didn’t know how to speak so that he sounded as interested in the conversation as he truly was, but he answered Dean despite his shortcomings.

“What are your parents like?” The words should have been innocent enough. Everyone asks about parents when they’re trying to get to know someone. Castiel always dreaded this question.

He dragged out a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “They’re not in my life anymore. I’m sure they were good people, just not to me.”

Dean’s face crumpled in soft confusion, “What happened?”

“They kicked me out for being gay. I come from a strictly Christian family. All my siblings and I are named after angels, hence my name being so odd. Charlie was there for me when I lost everything and she helped build me back up. I don’t talk to them or see them anymore. They’re not in my life. It’s like they never were.” Bitterness was sour on Castiel’s tongue, choking him with the unintended sincerity of his explanation.

“They kicked you out?” Dean’s voice was quiet with a calm rage, something that Castiel could tell would be terrifying if it was directed at him.

“It’s fine. I’d rather be able to live my life as I am without them than have to listen to them rant about my sexuality and throw girls from rich families at me in hopes of ‘fixing’ me.” The corner of his lip lifted in a sharp smirk. His eyes stayed glued to the plate in front of him.

Dean’s hand gripped his with a sudden ferocity that Castiel’s eyes flew to his automatically. The calm, happy green that swirled in his eyes had been replaced with roaring rage. Dean looked ready to defend Castiel until his final breath.

Transfixed, he watched as Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened, them his eyes were back to their sparkling, calm green. He tilted his head to the side, “And you call me the strong one.”

After that, the date flew by. Time passed unnoticed as Dean and Castiel traded memories. Dean cracked jokes and Castiel huffed out quiet laughs in response. When the diner closed down, it was one in the morning and the owner had to show them out the door. Dean waved down a taxi. The night air had a chill to it. With every gust of wind, icy claws scratched at Castiel. A shiver traveled down his spine, catching Dean’s attention.

Suddenly, Castiel’s back was pressed close to Dean’s chest, his arms wrapped solidly around Castiel’s slim torso. Dean’s heavy jacket fell over them both.

Castiel wasn’t cold anymore.

With the heat radiating from Dean’s body and the solid press of his arms around him, Castiel felt safe. When the taxi pulled over to the curb, Dean held the door open for Castiel and climbed in after him.  If Castiel was a different man, he would have wished for the ride back to his apartment to be filled with the press of Dean’s mouth against his. He would have wished for a hot, late night that left him with bruises and bites littering his torso.

But Castiel wasn't that kind of man. In the cab, Dean sat close, his shoulder pressed against Castiel’s, hands tangled together. Outside his apartment, Dean thanked Castiel for a wonderful night. The cab waited by the front of the apartment building.

“I had a nice night with you, Cas.” Dean grinned. He rocked on his heels, hands tucked into his pockets.

“I had a nice night with you as well, Dean.” Castiel turned to look at Dean, his face softening with a smile. “Thank you.”

Dean grinned, shifting from one foot to the other. He scratched the back of his neck. “Can- can I  kiss you?” The words stumbled over each other as they made their way out of Dean’s mouth.

Castiel smiled, “Of course. That’s how first dates end, isn’t it?”

Dean moved fast, grabbing the front of Castiel’s shirt with a fist and dragging his lips close. Despite the aggressive action, the kiss was soft. He was gentle, the push and pull of Dean’s lips a constant, smooth rhythm that Castiel caught onto immediately. Although it was only the second time they had kissed, Castiel could feel himself relaxing into the motions, like he was coming home. His cheeks heated with a slight blush.

The pressure of Dean’s mouth was perfect. He wasn’t pushing too hard, wasn’t demanding more than Castiel wanted to give, but he wasn’t fumbling at a loss. Even though his eyes were closed, Castiel would swear upon all that was holy that colors were exploding in his vision. He could see the colors of the rainbow, all vibrant and dancing, almost as if they were happy.

Kissing Dean was like nothing else Castiel had ever experienced.

When Dean broke off the kiss, he didn’t go far. Foreheads touching, Dean’s breath puffed against Castiel’s lips. Castiel felt him squeeze his hips lightly. “See you at the cafe tomorrow then, right?” Dean’s voice was hoarse, sounded almost strained as he asked Castiel.

Castiel opened his eyes, a gentle smile painted across his swollen lips, “See you tomorrow, Dean.”

With a final kiss to Castiel’s forehead, Dean left. As soon as he was in his apartment, Castiel’s legs gave out and he crashed to the ground, stunned. The date had been amazing, better than Castiel could have ever imagined. They hadn’t run out of anything to talk about during the hours they spent in the diner, and the kiss.  _Dean's_ kiss.

Eyes watering, Castiel let a grin grow slowly on his face, head resting in his hands. “I’m so happy.”

 

* * *

 

Unfortunately, like many things like Castiel’s life, the happiness  he felt didn’t last. He and Dean were going strong. They went on a date once a week and Castiel was in the cafe almost everyday, so they spent the majority of their time together. On the days they went out, Castiel and Dean didn’t always go out to eat. Sometimes they went to a movie, other times they stayed at either persons apartment.

When they were at Dean’s, they cooked their meal together and played video games. When they were at Castiel's, they watched movies and played board games The more Castiel and Dean spent time together, the faster and easier it was for Castiel to loosen up around him. He had stopped being a blushing fool around Dean and was able to have short conversations with him at the cafe.

They’d been dating for three months when Castiel showed Dean his art. They’d been at his apartment, watching a movie and snacking on chips. Castiel had gotten up to use the restroom and had come back to Dean flipping through one of his old sketchbooks. Dean had jumped and looked ashamed to have been snooping through Castiel’s art, especially without having asked before, but Castiel had only smiled and nodded.

Being with Dean was a perfect way to exist to Castiel. Dean respected any boundaries he had and didn’t push Castiel to give him anything that he wasn’t ready for. For his birthday, Dean had gotten them matching t-shirts that said 'he’s my boyfriend’ with an arrow pointing to where the other would be standing. It was a joke gift, because when everyone had stopped laughing and Castiel’s face had gone from molten lava to the heat of warm coals, Dean had pulled out a new, high-quality sketchbook, some canvases, and paints of decent quality.

When Castiel had looked up at Dean, he hadn’t known what to do. He had never mentioned his birthday to anyone at the cafe, so Charlie was the only one who knew. She had to have been the one who set this up. “You remembered?” The words had fallen out of his mouth in sluggish disbelief on a soft breath.

Dean had given him a soft smile, “Of course I did. Did you think I tuned you out when you talked about art? I know it’s not much, but I figured it was at the least, a start.”

On their third date as they were leaving the cafe around noon that Castiel had mentioned that he wanted to learn how to paint. Dean had picked up an early shift, so they had the rest of the day to spend together. It was on their way to Dean’s apartment that Castiel had seen the painting of a girl. It lacked all color except for the vibrant orange of her eyes. Her expression was fierce with determination. If the artist had painted it in all color or just black and white, it would still be an impressive piece, but the concentrated color in her eyes made the painting striking.

 He had said to Dean, as they started walking again, that he wanted to try out painting.

There wasn’t anything especially memorable about that time. There had been no kiss, no first ‘I love you’ no hug, nothing. But Dean had still remembered, and that meant everything to Castiel. He had stood up and pulled Dean into a fierce kiss, ignoring their audience and the tears that slipped down his cheeks. Their tongues danced and teeth clacked together. It was a messy kiss, but it had reflected the emotions that swirled in his chest.

“Thank you. It’s perfect.” Castiel said, hugging Dean.

He still wore the shirt, even if it was just a joke

He had really thought that life was starting to look up. He really had. But no one can exist in a state of perfect happiness. The news came in the form of Charlie, crying.

They were walking home in silence. Castiel had tried to strike up a conversation with her, tried everything he could to get her to laugh, to smile. There was something wrong with Charlie, and Castiel had known since she had come from the back of the room. The joy she normally radiated was dim, it felt false and her smile hadn’t reached her eyes.

When Charlie sniffed, he realized she was crying. Dim light wasn’t enough to clearly see her face. It seemed to work against him, hiding her from sight.

“Charlie, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? What’s wrong?” Castiel asked. His voice was pitched higher, panicked and begging.

“It’s the cafe, Cas.” Charlie sobbbed. Her voice was broken and raw. “We aren’t making enough to pay the bills. Ellen called all of us in to tell us. She asked if we would mind staying open 27/7 and taking a pay cut, just until we have the money to pay for this month…  The anniversary is so close, why now?”

Castiel softened with sympathy. He pulled Charlie to a stop and drew her to him in a tight hug. She clutched his jacket, body shaking as sobs wracked through her. “It’ll be okay, Charlie. We’ll figure this out. The cafe won’t go under.”

His words weren’t an empty promise. Castiel had majored in art, but he came from a rich family that owned an extremely successful business. Being the person who would have taken over, his father had demanded that he, at the least, minor in business. His older brothers had become successful lawyers and doctors, which had left Castiel the heir to his father’s business. After he had been kicked out, Anna had been made the heir.

Having the business taken away from him, he thought that the years he spent lacking proper sleep had been worthless, but if he could use what he had learned, Castiel had the faintest hope that he could pull Hunter's cafe out of the decline they were in.

He had a series of six drawings. They were laying in his room, leaned against the wall. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them, because he really did love them. He was proud of them; they were the first drawings he’d done with color.

He’d intended to give the drawings to Ellen and the others at the cafe as a gift on their anniversary. Although he didn’t want to give them away, if it could help the cafe, if it could help Charlie and Dean and Jo and Ellen and Bobby and Sam..

Castiel brought the drawings to Ellen the next day.

“Castiel..?” Ellen’s voice was unsure and Castiel couldn’t blame her. He could hear the unspoken ‘are you sure?’ in her voice in the hesitance. Perhaps if the positions were flipped, and Castiel was in the situation Ellen was, it would be different.

As it was, Castiel just gave Ellen a soft smile. “Of course I’m sure. This is my decision, Ellen. I know you guys are short for this month's payment. I know that your employees agreed to work longer even though they have to take a paycut. You’re stretched thin. I can do something. I’d really like to help, if I can. If you’ll allow me.”

Ellen didn’t want to admit that she was in need of help, Castiel could tell. It wasn’t something that many people could admit to very easily. It was hard, especially when you had been able to keep yourself afloat in the past.

Castiel meant no harm by this, nor did he intent to offend Ellen by his offer. He sincerely wanted to help. He was able to. If she didn’t like this idea, then he had others.

Ellen looked at him, tears slowly filling her eyes, like a puddle forming on the road. “Thank you, Castiel. I- we appreciate it.”

Castiel smiled, “I just want to help.”

“How are you going to sell these drawings?” Ellen asked, coming around her desk. She picked up one of them. It was hers. Castiel had drawn her with a soft smile. Red flowed from behind her, growing in intensity as it progressed to the edges of the canvas. Her eyes, which Castiel had drawn with soft sparkles, were various shades of red.

“My brother owns a gallery. He said I could put my work up for display anytime I wanted to. I’ve put a few works up in his gallery and sold them, so I have a few buyers that I can reach out to.” Castiel said, watching Ellen.

He had a brother, Gabriel, who owned a gallery. Gabriel was a well-known doctor with a high success rate of survival after he operated. His hobby was art, and the fact that his little brother was an aspiring artist had led to him purchasing the gallery and opening it to artists who wanted to display their work.

When Castiel had been kicked out of his family’s house and disowned, Gabriel had been the only one out of his siblings to stay by his side. The others had completely erased them from their life, but Gabriel had stayed. He’d given Castiel a place to live until he got back on his feet and had kept Castiel from falling into despair.

“And you think this could work?” Ellen asked. Her words trembled with the fear to hope. She didn’t want to get her hopes up only to fall short.

“How short are you?” Castiel asked. If he knew how much money they needed to break even, he could cut the cost between the six drawings.

Ellen hesitated, and he could read her body language as quiet embarrassment. “We’re about $300 short.”

Castiel nodded, doing quick math in his head. He could set the price for each drawing at  $50 and make the $250 that Ellen needed. “I can set the price at $50 for each drawing. You would make the $300 you need if they all sell. Besides that, the cafe will still be bringing money in. When is the payment due?”

“The 28th,” Ellen said. She had set the drawing of herself down and was sitting behind her desk again. “Thank you Castiel. Really, this means more than you could understand.”

It was the 25th. If he could secure a time for his work to be displayed in the gallery by tomorrow, Castiel knew he could make the money to keep the cafe running. The only issue was Gabriel’s gallery was popular. Artists called to secure a time slot months in advance, just so they could have a slot. The waiting list was insane, and Castiel wasn’t entirely sure he could get a slot, but he would try his hardest.

Castiel smiled, waving his hand, “I’m just glad I can help. Actually, I also had the idea that I could work here? Not for pay, of course, because I have a job that pays well, but I spend all my off time here. I was thinking that I could work during that time. You can put up a sign that advertises me and says that I’ll draw them, or whatever they want, for fifteen dollars. I’m not well known as an artist, but I’ve found that people are willing to pay to get a drawing.”

Ellen's eyes teared up again and she stood up, walking around her desk to yank Castiel out of his chair and into a fierce hug. “Thank you, Castiel. I’ll put the sign up right away.”

Castiel smiled, eyes softening as he lightly wrapped his arms around Ellen. “Of course, Ellen.”

He left the drawings with Ellen in her office as he stepped outside the cafe to call Gabriel. While he was talking to his brother and setting up the opening, he had Ellen show the employees his drawings and explain his idea.

Gabriel had made it difficult to get a time slot for tomorrow. He’d said that all the slots for the next month had been filled. Castiel had sighed, his brow furrowing in annoyance. He had recognized the tone Gabriel used; he was teasing.

“What do you want, Gabriel?" Castiel sighed. This was important and the fact that his brother wanted to waste precious time all in the name of fun got on his nerves.

 “Rumor has it my little bro has a boytoy now.” Gabriel’s voice was full of teasing, light hearted.

“What would that have to do with anything?” Castiel wasn’t surprised to find out that his brother knew about him and Dean. He seemed to know almost every change that took place in Castiel’s life.

“If you agree to bring him to the gallery during your slot, then I’ll give you the last slot I have for tomorrow.” Gabriel said. Castiel could hear the smirk in his voice, the absolute smugness that radiated from his words.

“Fine. See you then.” Castiel said.

When he walked back into the cafe, he was too busy shaking his head in absolute frustration to notice the way everyone was looking at him. He was too busy thinking about tomorrow, what he’d do, and all the past clients that he’d need to contact to realize Dean was walking towards him with purpose in his every step.

When Dean reached Castiel, he gripped the front of his shirt with a shaking fist and smashed his lips to Castiel’s. Muffled, a squeak pushed through his mouth, eyes widening with shock. Dean’s eyes were clenches shut, his lips moving fiercely against Castiel’s. Reading the emotion in Dean’s furrowed brow, he softened, grabbing onto Dean’s arms as he pressed back.

Lips bruised, teeth clashed and tongues danced fiercely. The kiss was emotion driven; Dean took control so surely, his hand coming up to grip the side of Castiel’s face as the hand clenched into a fist let go of his shirt to grip his waist.

Dean let go, leaning his forehead against Castiel’s softly, “Thank you, Castiel.”

Castiel laughed joy hot under his skin and rich in his voice. His cheeks burned with being kissed so fiercely in front of an audience, but he could feel the thrum of happiness burn at the back of his throat. “You know, not that I mind being kissed like that, but we have to do something about you doing that in public.”

Dean chuckled, voice raw, “What can I do? I’ve got the best boyfriend in the world.”

Castiel sold all of his drawings at the gallery the next day. Dean met Gabriel, and although it was a rocky meeting, Castiel could say that he kept his side of the deal. He made about $500 from his drawings, having sold them at $85 a piece. He named the series 'Hunters: The Family Business' because, after all, isn’t that what the employees of Hunters had become to him? They’d welcomed him in with open arms and smiles so bright he had been blinded. They had shown him an entire new world, one he thought he could never be a part of.

They’d shown him true, unconditional love.

When he’d given the money to Ellen, she’d cried in earnest, sobbing and shaking. Castiel had held her, told her that he was sorry he had lied about the price he would sell the drawings at, but now they had a head start on next month's payment.

With the advertisements he had put out at the gallery, Hunters started seeing more customers. They became more known. Castiel worked there for free, drawing people to make money for the cafe too. He owed them everything, including the world he lived in now.

Castiel had found the colors in his life, and it showed in his art. Red was the sunsets shared with Dean after a long shift at the cafe as they walked home together. Orange, holding hands with him as they walked through town. Blue was the feeling of gentle fear whenever the cafe had a slow month and they had to work longer hours with pay cuts until they picked back up again.

Yellow, the blinding pleasure of a shared night, sweat shining and quiet praises followed by bite and kiss marks littering Castiel’s neck and torso the next day, visible unless hidden by a scarf. The squeeze in his chest when he thought of his family being slowly released as Charlie, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Sam and Dean shared supporting smiles with him painted his vision a loving purple.

And green, the gentle color of love and support and beauty, sparking into life when Dean held Castiel softly in his arms, swaying slowly to the music floating through the air on their anniversary.

Castiel’s life had been colorless, his art had been barren. Now, he flourished with the colors he thought would be locked away from him forever.

Eventually, he told Dean about the way he’d lived his life before meeting him. He told him all about the dull gray sheen over everything, and how his vision had exploded into magnificent, dizzying colors the second he’d seen Dean’s eyes. Dean had understood exactly what Castiel had been describing. He had been able to see colors, but the color blue had always been faint to him. Crying, he had thanked Dean for the life he’d given him, the possibilities that he’d been granted because of him.

Dean had kissed him, holding his face gently, soft and unrushed, “You were my missing color.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are appreciated! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. I apologize for any and all errors.


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